Time to remember

Last Monday was both our son’s birthday and the same day that my kidney donor died - events which have affected my life to a massive degree. It obviously isn’t the only day of the year which I reflect on these things, but is a day when I quietly remember...

However, since my transplant there is someone else who always comes into my thoughts...

My husband used to work with C in our local woods. They were just a small group of men who worked together doing wood management and gardening. Initially I wasn’t over keen on C - he seemed to think a lot of himself; particularly pleased that he had a second, younger and prettier wife and had the arrogance of someone who had always been sure of his success with women. As I knew him longer though, I realised that his past life had been quite complex and I understood him more.

All things change though... The little team were made redundant to make way for mobile Park Rangers - Rangers that are rarely seen! Gardeners were subcontracted in and wood management was non existent for years until a group of volunteers set themselves to the task.

My husband missed working in the woods - but they are very close to us anyway - however, he got a better job in a similar line. The others fared less well, one developed cancer soon after and C’s life got more problematic. He couldn’t find a permanent job, his marriage broke down and he took to drinking.

We would see him sometimes when were in our old home town and he seemed a shadow of his former self... He would speak profusely and reminisce.

On the day before I was called into hospital it was a glorious day - as it had been all summer. I was feeling better than I had for ages as I’d finally had 3 dialysis sessions that week through the fistula in my arm (the 4th and only successful one - prior to that it had been through necklines)

Driving down the high street I caught sight of C at a bus stop and told my husband to pull over. C seemed so glad to see us... We laughed and joked and I repeatedly told him to get in the car and we would take him wherever he wanted. He kept refusing though... He was interested in all we had to say and was happy that our son had managed to get through his latest brain surgery.

After my transplant I was ill for months, but eventually my husband felt it was time he told me something. When I had been trying to persuade C to get into the car my husband had heard him say he didn’t want to get us involved. He thought it was odd - but it made sense later.

After we left him C made his pre-planned journey over to the marshes - where he committed suicide...

He had made his decision - and the only consolation one can feel is that prior to his journey he saw old familiar faces and recalled the friendship he’d had with my husband....